Wrote about this tea in an early blogpost, but every morning, when I’m deciding which tea to start the day with, I keep coming back to Ceylon Nuwara. As I read from numerous sources, this is the Champagne of Ceylons. Full-bodied and really tasty.
It’s the dead of winter, and I’m sitting in the pre-dawn hours dreaming of being in the mountains of Sri Lanka. I’m not a beach person, so when I dream about the summer, it’s normally somewhere high in the mountains. I’d love to see these tea estates. Apparently, unlike in Assam where excellent tea is grown at much lower altitudes, in Ceylon, as well as many other places, the best tea is grown at the highest altitudes. This Nuwara is no exception.
Here I am on an early summer day, looking out over Lover’s Leap, not remotely concerned with the troubles back home. As a matter of fact while I’m lost in this reverie up on the Sri Lankan cliff, I have neither troubles at home nor a home per se. I’ve tied up all my loose ends and have embarked on a trip through the Subcontinent and China to drink all the teas at their source. And write about them.
These are my longings as I imagine myself sitting high in the mountains in the Nuwaru region of Sri Lanka. More soon about specific teas. Just wanted to share a bit of my melancholy. Brought to you by Germany’s endless winter.
Melancholy noted, but humbly rejected.
ReplyDeleteYou'd be sitting there on that leap thinking about all those poor underpaid tea pluckers, how hard their lives are, pondering the political struggles, while slapping away those pesky mosquitoes and sweating buckets. You'd miss Hund 1 & Hund 2 terribly, and you'd crave your music too.
I suggest, that spring will be here very soon, and fantasies will fade. Though of course they'll be replaced with other ones, and I look forward to hearing about those. They make for nice articles, and in your case; good prose :-)
You know Jackie, you're likely right on all counts.
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